Showgirls Lorelei Lee and Dorothy Shaw travel to Paris, pursued by a private detective hired by the suspicious father of Lorelei's fiancé, as well as a rich, enamored old man and many other doting admirers.
When two Chicago musicians, Joe and Jerry, witness the the St. Valentine's Day massacre, they want to get out of town and get away from the gangster responsible, Spats Colombo. They're desperate to get a gig out of town but the only job they know of is in an all-girl band heading to Florida. They show up at the train station as Josephine and Daphne, the replacement saxophone and bass players. They certainly enjoy being around the girls, especially Sugar Kane Kowalczyk who sings and plays the ukulele. Joe in particular sets out to woo her while Jerry/Daphne is wooed by a millionaire, Osgood Fielding III. Mayhem ensues as the two men try to keep their true identities hidden and Spats Colombo and his crew show up for a meeting with several other crime lords.Written by
Tony Curtis had been going to analysis as much as four times a week for several years. And when the time came for him to appear on the set in drag for the first time, Jack Lemmon had to take him by the hand and literally pull him out of his dressing room See more »
Osgood mentions a full moon twice, but there is no sign of a full moon in the relevant night-time scenes. See more »
Why a man would want to marry another man? asks Tony Curtis, Security! Jack Lemmon replays without missing a beat. Clearly he had put the question to himself before and had arrived to a perfectly sensible conclusion. Everything in this gem of a movie had been thought so cleverly and as it turned out so prophetically, that the world of our three characters, a world of prohibition and gang wars could be today and more than likely will be tomorrow. Billy Wilder analyzes human nature with an acid eye and a glorious panache for underlining our most endearing features. Our frailties. Marilyn Monroes is at her pick, the sadness in her eyes a startling metaphor in a comedy about wanting. Tony Curtis with an Eve Arden's pout is so beautiful, so charming, imitating Cary Grant and trying to be himself that, in my mind he'll be always be in a frock. And, of course, Jack Lemmon, throwing himself into the part, body and should. Only perfection can allow to end its course with a line like "Nobody's perfect"
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